Unnatural
by GoodieTwo-Shoes
Summary: While trying to find a cure to remove the Mark of Cain, Sam and Dean discover an old forgotten library full of spell books that once was owned by an ancient she-witch. But as usual for the two brothers, things don't go as planned. They end up being transformed into something unexpected and find themselves caged. (Rated T for possible mild violence, gore, & language-just in case)
1. Chapter 1: Caged

**Disclaimer** **: I don't own "Supernatural" or its characters. (Notes at end).**

* * *

Chapter 1: Caged

"How did this happen?!" Sam asked aloud in exasperation. "Why do these things always happen to us?" he continued in frustration as he paced back and forth in the cage in which he and his brother were currently trapped.

"It comes with the territory, Sam," Dean remarked while watching his agitated brother from the corner of the cage. He couldn't help but grin despite his own annoyance with the situation.

The two brothers were hunters, hunters of the supernatural: demons, vampires, witches, and the like. Ever since Sam was a baby and their mother was killed by a yellow-eyed demon, their dad, John Winchester, had dragged them all over the country in search of the monster. Once they were old enough, Sam and Dean had become hunters themselves. Since taking down the yellow-eyed demon, the pair had faced many other dangerous foes and horrible tragedies. They had defeated Hellhounds, angels, knights of Hell, and even the Devil himself. Together, they had been to Hell, had gone to Purgatory, and had even died and been brought back to life by their undying loyalty for one other. But, this, this one was new.

"Come on, Dean!" he shouted, angry at how casual his older brother was being.

He knew the consequences of his job: never getting paid, hardly getting thanked, the loss of friends, demon deals, severe injuries, nasty hotel rooms, losing one's soul, long nights, losing oneself to demonic influences, and all the other terrible things. These were the normal costs of being a hunter. Sam knew this. But their current predicament could not be chalked up to the standard consequences of their job. It was not normal, not that their lives could be considered normal. This, however, was just bizarre. This was not even supernatural. It was just unnatural.

"You can't say **this** -" Sam gestured to himself "-is just a part of our job," he said, looking down at his new body in disbelief and hatred. He moved his eyes up to his brother, seeing if he had any response. What he saw only angered him more. "Are, are you actually smiling?" he asked, a "V" forming on his forehead.

"No," Dean said, face dropping. "Not at all. Of course not," he rambled, looking away from his brother's angry eyes.

"You think this is funny, don't' you?" he questioned, glaring at him.

Not that Sam wasn't pleased to see his brother truly tickled about something after what he had been going through lately, but how could he be when they were so far from an answer now? How could they even try to find a way to get rid of the Mark of Cain when they were in their new forms and trapped in cage who knows where? It's like Dean didn't even care. Sam tried to be supportive, but he was so tired of his brother acting like there was no answer, that Dean was just doomed to be a monster. And now, he was practically laughing about all of it.

Dean hesitated at first, not wanting the upset Sam any further. But then he caught a glimpse of his brother's furious expression, and he couldn't help himself.

"Aw, come on, Sammy. You've got to admit that this is a little hilarious," he said with a big grin on his face. Sam just continued glaring at his Cheshire cat of a brother. "Stop being such a Grumpy Cat. Just look at yourself," he said, motioning to the shiny metal floor. Sam sighed. With a roll of his eyes, he leaned forward a bit and scowled down at his reflection. "You are the most fringin' adorable thing I've ever seen! Especially with that pouty face of yours," he said, grinning down at their reflections.

After eyeing his brother's reflection at the comment, he looked back at his own. He could only recognize the creature staring back at him as Sam Winchester by its brownish-green eyes. Seeing the creature he had been unwillingly transformed into forced his mind back to the event that had gotten them into yet another ordeal.

* * *

UNUNUNUNUNUNUNUNUN

* * *

The younger Winchester brother was tuning the large file room of the Bunker upside down once again to find a cure for the Mark. Protected against all forms of evil and located under an old power plant in Lebanon, Kansas, the Bunker had become a home to the two and was filled with vast information about the supernatural. Still, Sam had not had any luck finding a way to remove the Mark of Cain from his brother's arm that was slowly turning him into a demon. Now that the Mark had served its purpose of allowing Dean to kill Abaddon, and then Cain as a bonus, and ridding the world of the last two very evil Knights of Hell, it had to be eradicated. It was destroying his big brother.

The tall, younger man ran his hand through his long, dark brown hair and let the air out of his lightly bearded cheeks. He stared with bloodshot eyes at the hundredth open file in front of him. The words on the paper were blurred into illegible marks. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Dropping his hands to support his weight on the table, he attempted to read the file again. Letters running together, he shook his head. It was no use. He was just too worn out form the endless searching he had done that day to read any longer.

He roughly closed the folder and threw it into the box. There were no answers here, no matter how many times he read every piece of paper in the Bunker. He slammed the lid onto the box and shoved the cardboard cube back into its place on the shelf. He sighed. He would not give up. He would find a way to save his brother. There had to be a way. He'd just have to look for other options, maybe even one's he didn't want to think about. He shook his head again, closing his eyes. It hadn't come to that yet. He didn't need to take that risk just yet. Dean wouldn't like it anyway.

A rustle followed by a soft thud, broke him from his thoughts as his eyelids flew open. Hand placed on his angel blade, his eyes quickly darted down behind the metal shelfing unit where he had heard the sound. He spotted the corner of some paper sticking up behind the bottom shelf directly below where he had just put the box. He relaxed and crouched down to retrieve the paper. The dusty paper turned out to be a few pages of papers that were now falling out of an old folder he had apparently knocked down from somewhere on the shelving unit. He collected all the pieces and placed them on the table. He grabbed a chair that he was too busy to use earlier. Sitting down, he read through the old and forgotten case file.

The case had been a witch hunt. A few hunters had heard from a reliable source that a witch by the name of Ambivalence had recently been chased into the area after her previous lair had been discovered. The hunters were part of the Men of Letters, who had lived in the Bunker many years ago. These men had set out to collect and bring back Ambivalence's spells, potions, and such. These things would be safe from others' hands and could be of use to the men. The witch was very old, and they were confident they would find all sorts of magical goodies. The men had found her lair, which was an old large house that had seemed to have long been abandoned before she had taken it as her own. They discovered it had a large library full of her spell books. The books revealed spells that none of the men had ever heard of. They assumed they were just too old for any living person to remember. Distracted by the strange spells, Ambivalence had gotten the better of them. She had knock one of them out with a spell, but another one of the hunters was able to injury her with an iron fire pit poker. She fled and the third man had chased after her, leaving the second man to help the first. The rest of the file was unclear. It only said that the witch had gotten away and that they hadn't pursued her further. Two men had been lost in the fight, and the library had been left untouched.

Sam thought it was odd that the Men of Letters had not gone after the ancient witch nor brought back any of her books. Old witch's spells like those were usually very powerful, as were the witches who created them. They could do a lot of harm in the wrong hands. The spells could also be very useful, particularly to the brothers right now. An old, forgotten library owned by a centuries old witch could most definitely have something Sam could use to remove the Mark. It was certainly worth looking into at least.

Exhaustion swept away by this new lead, Sam grabbed the file and ran to Dean's room. Reaching his brother's small, simple room decorated with a few weapons, he was too excited to knock. He barged in, swinging the solid door open so hard it slammed into the concrete wall. Hunter instincts kicking in, the shorter man leapt up out of bed pointing the gun from his nightstand at whatever had come to attack him. His messy, short brown hair further gave the impression that he was surprised, as if his hair were standing on end in a cartoonish manor.

"Whoa, Dean! It's me, Sam," the younger brother quickly said, holding his arms up beside his head.

"Da** it, Sammy," Dean said, dropping his hands down. "You can't just barge in here in the middle of the night like a mad man, unless you want to have a hole through that big brain of yours."

"Sorry," Sam said. Watching his brother set the gun back down in its place, Sam was reminded that his brother would often sleep in his birthday suit now that he had his own room. "Ahem, Dean," Sam said, eyes glued to the dark ceiling.

He gave his younger brother a strange look, before he looked down and understood why Sam appeared to find the ceiling so interesting. He sat down in his bed and covered himself up with his tan blanket.

"That's what you get for scaring the he** outta me," Dean said, letting his brother know he was decent. Sam slowly moved his eyes downward, just in case. "You jealous, little bro," he added with a sideways grin.

Sam just rolled his eyes as he walked past his now covered brother and turned on the lamp beside the gun. Waiting for his blinded brother to stop squinting, Sam cautiously sat down beside him on the edge of the bed.

"What's that?" Dean asked, blinking his eyes at the old folder. "Don't tell me you woke me up just for a case. I was having a good dream, if you know what I mean."

Sam rolled his eyes again. He doubted that was true. He had found Dean twisting and turning in his bed covered in sweat on more than one occasion. He could only assume he was having bad dreams about the Mark and the awful things he had done under its influence. Sam wouldn't ask him. He didn't want Dean to feel worse about the situation. And Dean wouldn't have told him anyway. He didn't want to worry his little brother further. The truth is he was actually thankful Sam had woken him. Another bad dream about brutally killing and causing a blood bath was starting up again. He tried to hide this with his remark about the good dream, trying to act normal. He needed to convince himself he was fine, that he could handle this, even more than he needed to convince his brother. Sam still had hope. Dean wasn't sure he had any left, though he told his brother otherwise. He had allowed Sam to believe he would stop thinking like there was no hope, but he didn't know if he could really believe that.

"I found this old folder behind the filing shelves," Sam said with some excitement. Dean took the folder and began glancing through it. "Some hunters were after an old witch." The oldest looked up from the folder. The tired and annoyed look he was giving Sam silently asked why this mattered right now before the sun was even up. "She had a library full of old spells," the youngest answered the unspoken question.

"Sam, I know where this is going," Dean shot him down before he could even explain.

"Come on, Dean. You said you wouldn't give up," Sam reminded him.

"I didn't say that," he said, staring at the pages.

"You pretty much did. I told you to stop acting like this is the end, and you agreed. I won't stop looking for an answer," Sam said, standing up and looking down at him.

"This is a long shot," Dean said, looking up to meet his brother's eyes.

"I know. But it's something," he stated with sad hopefulness.

The room was quiet as they both kept their eye contact. Dean's eyebrows knitted into horizontal lines above his eyes, while Sam's begging ones were pushed upwards in the middle. After a few quiet moments, the sitting hunter finally broke.

"Alright fine," he sighed, looking back at the file. "We can take a swing at it, but I'm not getting my hopes up. Just stop giving me those darn puppy eyes," he said, handing Sam the folder while still avoiding those big, sad eyes. Sam smiled and took the folder. "Now get you're a$$ outta here so I can get dressed," he demanded and grabbed the blanket threateningly. He smirked as his little brother scurried out of the room so fast he lost his gripped on the door handle. The door was left ajar, but the embarrassed hunter didn't dare turn back to close it. Sam was just too easy.

* * *

The old, black Impala that had once belonged to their father slowly made its way down a bumpy dirt road. The path went through a large overgrown field that ran along some woods. The drive was not too long, but, by the time they had gotten themselves ready and loaded the car with what they would need to take down the witch if necessary, the sun was already up when Dean could see a wooden dwelling in the distance. He thought that had to be the house they were looking for. The only other building was a newer, smaller, white panel house they had passed a few minutes back that was across the field on the opposite side as the old house.

The older Winchester glanced over at his sleeping brother, wishing he didn't have to wake his peaceful, slumbering sibling. He couldn't convince his determined, excited brother to eat much of a breakfast before they left, but he did get him to at least take a nap on the way there. Dean knew Sam was neglecting his sleep, being too worried about him or staying up to look for a solution. There was no point for youngest to stay awake anyway. Dean would seldom let him drive his precious Baby-except when his demon self gave her over to him-, especially when Sam hadn't slept. Plus, Sam had already told him how to get there. He had also filled his big brother in on what little was written about the case, while Dean scarfed down a heavy breakfast. He was already up before the sun on a farfetched cure; he was not going to miss eating a hearty breakfast too.

Dean slowed the car to a stop in front of the house because what he could only assume was once a yard was covered in tall weeds and dead grass. He might not ever get his Baby out of there if he parked any closer. Not to mention the scratches. He turned off the engine and shook his brother's shoulder.

"Hay, Sammy. We're here," he said gently.

"Hum…," Sam mumbled. He stretched his long body. Then he fisted his eyes, shook the sleep out of his head, and hoped out of the car leaving his brother stunned. He popped his head into the passenger window and asked, "You coming?"

"Yeah…," Dean answered.

He'd never seen anyone go from completely out stone cold to wide awake and ready for action so quickly. Sam couldn't help himself though. Any lead, even one as farfetched as this one, filled him with more hope. His excitement bubbled to the surface because he might finally have his big brother back. He couldn't even act a little tired right now.

Climbing out of the car, Dean looked back at his little brother as he grabbed some knives, guns, and iron out of the trunk. He wished he could feel what his brother was feeling. Instead, he plastered on a smirk and joined Sam.

Grabbing a gun, he smirked, "You look like a kid on Christmas morning."

"I'm just really hopeful we'll finally find an answer here," Sam said, closing the trunk.

Loaded down with weapons, the two brothers headed for the house. This witch had apparently killed two men already. Although the case file didn't say exactly what had happened, it appeared this witch was powerful, so much so that they never went after her again. Plus, she had a full library of spells she could use against them. They had to be prepared.

Fighting their way through the brush, they made it to the porch. They dusted the stray plants off their jackets and then held their guns at the ready. Dean motioned for Sam to walk around the creaky, overgrown, wraparound porch to the back. He skillfully made his way around the house without making a sound. The eldest Winchester pushed open the gapped door, gun in the other hand. Dim morning light shined through the open wooden door and joined the rest that was creeping through the broken windows, lighting the room just enough for Dean to see.

He carefully stepped inside the fallen down house. The room felt a little cool, but the house was pretty drafty. Dean dismissed it. They were looking for a witch, not a ghost. Searching the room for any signs of life, he was surprised by how well the house was kept. There was hardly any dust or cobwebs covering the living room. What little furniture was there was old and torn. If someone had been living in the house recently, they must not have replaced anything form the first owners who lived there even before the witch had. That couch was ancient. Dean made his way to the back of the house. They hadn't done any repairs either. He had to step over a broken floor panel to get to the kitchen. The only upkeep on the house was the dusting and keeping all the old crap organized.

Finding Sam standing in the kitchen looking as confused as he did, Dean asked, "What kind of person would bother cleaning this dump?" He eyed the fallen chandelier hanging over the scratched-up dining room table in the adjacent room.

"Maybe a witch," Sam offered, "That is the last known person to live here." He moved the crocked cabinet door to find it was empty just like all the others he had checked. "It's weird though. There's no food here," he said, showing him the empty cabinet. To be sure, Dean opened the frig door. Unsurprisingly, it was empty as well. Making a face he stuck his hand inside, and then he raised an eyebrow.

"Check this out," Dean said.

Sam copied his brother and said in astonishment, "It's cold."

"Yeah," Dean said, walking into the dining room. He flipped the light switch. The broken light fixture came to life with light. "The electricity still works."

Closing the refrigerator, Sam went to the kitchen sink. Turning the knob, he was rewarded with clean, clear water.

"And the water," Sam mused aloud. Turning off the water as his brother killed the lights, Sam said, "Someone must still live here."

"Yeah, someone with a horrible taste in style," Dean added, looking at the decrepit room again. "Sounds like a she-witch to me, a she-witch that's a neat freak," he added, spotting the old-fashioned dishes stacked neatly on the counter.

"This whole thing feels off to me. Come on. Let's keep looking," Sam said.

Finding nothing on the first floor, they climbed the half-broken stairs. There was still no sign of the witch after searching every room but one. One brother on each side, they pushed open two large doors that must have led to the library. Doors opened fully, the two saw the large room filled with old, worn books that they were searching for. Checking the room, there was no sign of the witch, expect for the spell books.

They assumed she must have been out or something-if she had even been there recently at all. They still weren't sure what was going on with the house, but they worked carefully in case someone came back. They didn't want her to get the slip on them, like she had the other hunters. Looking at the tremendous number of books, Dean almost wished she were there. Then they could force her to help them find the spell they needed, if there even were one there.

* * *

After a long day of reading through the books, Dean had had enough. "We are never going to find anything!" he yelled, knocking the pile of books he had read off the table. "We've been here all day! None of these spells even make any sense!"

"Calm down, Dean," Sam said calmly, walking over to his brother. "We'll find something," he assured, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder.

Shrugging the hand off, Dean stepped back and said more calmly, "Come on, Sammy. Face it. There is nothing here but a bunch of crazy old hag's mumbo jumbo."

"Why don't you take a break? I'll be fine up here," Sam suggested. His brother didn't move. Sam could still see the remnants of anger in his eyes. "Didn't you bring some of that unhealthy junk food you love so much?" he added, feigning disgust and hoping food would get his mind on something else.

"Yeah. I'll just go have a snack then," Dean said sounding dejected as he glanced at the scattered books on the floor.

"I'll get that, Dean," he offered with a smile, bending down to clean up the mess.

"Thanks, Sammy," he said, turning around to go to the car.

Once he was gone, Sam sighed. He needed to find the spell quick. Normal Dean had a temper, but it was the Mark's influence that made him snap like that.

* * *

Reaching the Impala, he kicked the tire hard. He had to get himself under control. The more he lost it, the more he worried his little brother and thus, the more desperate Sam got for an answer. Not to mention, Dean was scaring himself. What if he had hit Sammy when he tried to comfort him like he had thought about doing for a split second? He could never live with himself if he hurt his little brother. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and slowly let it go. He was fine and, more importantly, Sam was okay. That was all that mattered right now. He couldn't think about the future right now. He just had to focus on his candy bar and maybe a beer and then go back in and help Sam.

* * *

Flipping through another aged book, Sam had a thought. He looked around the room again. Besides the shelves full of spell books, there were no other signs of witchcraft. Maybe the witch had never come back. But what about the working power, running water, clean rooms, and organized dishes? If she had been chased off after a battle with the hunters, the place would have been a mess. Even if the house had somehow survived the fight, there would still be dust covering everything. Plus, her witchcraft stuff would have still been there, since the hunters apparently had left everything there. Maybe she had left recently to move somewhere else, and she had taken everything else with her. Why would she leave the books, and what kind of witch would clean before she left? Something was definitely not right here.

Sam shook his head of the thoughts and tried to focus on the book again. He was there to look for a spell, not to investigate a case of a missing witch. The incantations were unfamiliar. He hadn't seen this language before. The purpose of each spell written along with them offered little help. Although written in English, the sentences were so vague, they could mean anything. Sam couldn't tell what the spells actual did. Plus, the spells required no ingredients or anything else but reading the incantations as far as he could tell. That was unusual. Maybe they were just very old like the hunters before them had thought. What had happened to make them just drop the case like they had? What had happened in this house? Sam observed the room again. Whatever had happened, he and Dean had been there all day, and there had been no sign of anyone. He felt it was fairly safe to assume that no one was coming back, at least not tonight.

Finding his mind wondering again, Sam closed the book to take a break. These strange books were giving him a headache. Not to mention the only sleep he had gotten since the night before last was in the car. He hadn't eaten much either. He really should take better care of himself. It was just too hard to focus on himself when he was so worried about Dean. He rubbed his hands over his face, putting extra attention on his pounding temples and heavy eyes. He walked around the room a bit to clear his head. Glancing at the many books they still had to read, he sighed. This was going to take longer than he had thought. He had underestimated the size of the library and the difficulty of interpreting the meaning of the spells.

Then his eyes caught something odd. Hidden in plain sight with some older, rougher looking books, was an extremely tattered brown book. Sam approached the book, noticing it was obviously even more aged and worn than the rest. He carefully slid the ancient book off the shelf so not to tear it further. Glancing through the pages, he quickly realized that this book was just like the others: confusing and full of unusual incantations.

Frustrated, he dropped the book onto the table. Hitting the wooden surface, the book opened. Glancing back at it, he noticed some darker writing on the page. Curious, he picked the book back up. The darker marks were written in another's sloppy handwriting. They were fresher than the witch's writing. Someone else had written it more recently, which would explain why the book had opened to this spot. Ignoring the writing for now, he read the page.

The incantation was short, but still not familiar. There was not ingredient list for this spell either. It seemed very simple, much like the others. Also similar to the others, the purpose of the spell was unclear. It was something to do with weak and change. Maybe the spell could weaken the Mark so it could be removed or change it into a simple, harmless scar.

Before Sam could further think on the spell, Dean stumbled back into the room through the large open doorway. He seemed much more relaxed, which made Sam smile. The break must have done him good. Now maybe they could progress faster. He had a bottle of water in one hand and a snack bar in the other.

"You need to eat," Dean said, offering Sam the bottle and snack. Sam took the food and looked at the fruit grain bar. "It has fruit. That counts as healthy, right?" he asked, falling into the chair he had been sitting in prior to his break. He put his dirty boots on the table and leaned back. "Find anything?" he casually asked.

Sam eyed him strangely. He was definitely buzzed. As long as he was calm and could still help him work, Sam was okay with it. He could understand. Alcohol made him feel better, made things easier for him.

"Yeah," Sam answered, taking the book over to Dean and setting his food down.

"Yeah?" he asked, surprised. One eyebrow up in suspicion, he dropped his feet to sit up properly, so he could look at the magic, cure-all spell.

"Well, maybe," Sam added. He sat the book down in front of his now skeptic brother. "It's hard to tell, but this spell might do something."

"Well that's nice, Sam, another gibberish spell that does something. That's helpful," he said sarcastically, pushing the book away.

"No, Dean. Look," he said, picking the book up and holding it in front of Dean. "Here. It might weaken the mark or something. We can at least try it. It's not like it could kill you if it fails."

"Yeah. Let's just treat me like a lab rat with every fringin' one of these spells because this Mark won't let anything take me out," he sneered, pushing the useless book out of his face.

"This is the closest thing we've found all day," Sam said desperately. Dean just looked away. "Please, Dean. Let's just try this one, and then we can ward the house and rest for the night," he bargained. They were both exhausted form the early start and long day of reading. "This is all we have. I won't let you become that monster again. You'd said you would try," he said more aggressively.

Dean looked up at him. Sam stared back with desperate, pleading eyes. Dean didn't want to just start casting spells all willy-nilly just because Sam was desperate to fix his brother. He may not get hurt, but Sam could. But his little brother hadn't tried any spells all day and believed this one could work. He could at least try this one for Sammy's sake.

"You eat, and I'll let you do it," Dean offered.

"Deal," Sam said, holding the book back up.

"Ah ah ah," Dean said, pushing the discarded food towards Sam. "Food first."

"Really?" Sam asked, eyeing his brother.

"We had a deal," he said with a sideways grin.

"Fine," Sam sighed, putting the book down and grabbing the artificial fruit bar. He ripped it open and swiftly took a bit. It was surprisingly appetizing, but he hadn't eaten much that day.

Satisfied that his little brother was holding up his end, he picked up the book. Reading over the English part, he could sort of understand what Sam had seen. His eyes took notice of the fresher note written in the margin of the page. What in the world was a grimalkin? Sam probably knew.

"Drink the water too," Dean demanded, eyeing him from behind the book like a mean, old librarian. Sam rolled his eyes, but opened the bottle and chugged it back.

Knowing Sam, he had probably already read the little messy note and figured it out by now. He wouldn't try the spell before he had gotten all the information he could. Sam was careful like that.

"All of it," he commanded, his smile hidden behind the book. Sam glared at him, but quickly guzzled some more water down.

His brother was going to use an unknown spell on him, the least Dean could do was make him work for it. Besides, they were overdue for some brotherly teasing with all that had been going on lately. Plus, he really did want Sam to eat. He hated that his little brother was neglecting his own health to try to help him. He was the big brother; that was his job. Teasing his sibling was just a bonus.

Watching Sam hurriedly gulp down the water, he wondered if he was still as careful as he used to be. He practically choked on the water just so he could try some random spell that had a little sliver of a change at working. Maybe his judgement was a little lapsed as well due to the circumstances. Great; something else for Dean to worry about.

Dean shook his head and focused on the book again. He should thoroughly study the spell just to be safe. He looked at the strange incantation as Sam finished the water. The youngest twisted the top on and set down the empty bottle, while Dean mumbled the odd words to himself, trying to recognize even a single word. The taller looked at his brother, expecting a sarcastic job well done. He only saw his sibling staring intensively at the book. He stepped over to the table and wrapped his fingers around the top of the book. Finishing reading over the incantation, Dean glanced up at his brother.

"I want to get the lowdown on his thing before I let you hit me with it," Dean said, not releasing the book.

"I do too," Sam said, pulling on the book.

"You mean you got my hopes up, and you haven't even read the fine print?" he asked, eyeing him.

"You really seem hopeful," he responded, rolling his eyes. "I just want to be certain before I use it," he answered, pulling on the book again.

"Go ahead and take it then, Nancy," Dean commented on his brother's inability to pull the book from his grip.

"I would if you'd release your vice grip," he said, pulling harder.

"I'm not doing anything," he said, beginning to worry.

Sam's eyes met his brother's. They both quickly tried to drop the open book, but their hands remained glued to it. The pages began the rustle under their fingers. Nervously waiting for something bad to happen, they both just stared wide-eyed at the old hardback stuck to their hands. A small green tornado of smoke began seeping out form the pages.

"Dean, what did you do?!" Sam questioned, mixed with anger and fear. He had no idea how to defeat a smoke-spewing book.

"Me?!" Dean asked, eyes moving to stare at his brother.

The twisting smoke grew larger.

"You had it last!" he shouted over the loud gusting that was now coming from the green tornado.

"I didn't…Son of a bit**! All I did was read it to myself! It was hardly even a whisper!" he yelled over the loud blowing wind.

The tornado had outgrown the book and was spilling over onto their arms.

"Dean!" he scolded.

It grew even larger and encompassed them into itself.

"That's not how spells work! You need ingredients and candles and crap like that, don't you?!" Dean asked, watching the green smoke as it circled around them.

"Not for this spell, apparently!" he hollered.

The smoke was spinning so fast, the two could barely keep from collapsing.

"The spell was only meant for me, not you!" the oldest panicked, no longer able to see his little brother through the smoke. "What's it going to do to you?!" He didn't get a reply. "SAMMY!"

His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He tried to pull the book towards him, knowing his little brother should be on the other end. The distance to the end of his arm seemed impossibly long. He kept pulling, even trying to use his other arm. He couldn't find his arm or reach the end. The smoke in front of his eyes grew brighter until he could only see white. He suddenly felt lightheaded. Then everything went black.

* * *

Far off in the field, a bright explosion of light was visibly filling the second floor of an old, wooden house with green smoke that poured out the broken windows. The sole owner of the little white house, the only other house in the overgrown field, quickly ran to her window. Once there, the young brunette could clearly see where the strange light that had tinted her curtains green had come from. Speedily grabbing her cell phone, she dialed 911. This was something she could not ignore.

Less than half an hour later, the police and firemen had finally made the long drive to the house. Seeing the officials had arrived, the women could finally drive around the field, up the dirt road, and over to the house she had been watching ever since she had made the call. Since the strange light show, nothing else had happened. The house was completely still, lifeless. By the time she had driven to the old house, the officials were tapping up the scene. The cops had found a car full of fake IDs, weapons of many kinds, and quite a few empty beer bottles; a library filled with possibly devil worship books; two sets of clothes with cell phones; an empty bottle of water; a fruit bar wrapper; no other food inside the house; no sign of the smoke or an explosion; and no trail as to where the two men had gone. Their flannel shirts, heavy jackets, jeans, and boots were lying on the floor in a pile as if the men had just disappeared into thin air, leaving behind their clothes.

Stepping out of her light blue Corolla, the women walked up to one of the officers. He explained that they had found several suspicious items and asked her if she knew anything else. All she saw that night was the green smoke and light. She had seen lights turned on in the house before and had heard some banging sounds, but she was positive that no one had lived there since long before she had her house built about ten years ago. She thought maybe some homeless people had used it on occasion or something. She didn't want to bother them. Until tonight, it hadn't been a problem. What she had seen that night had scared her though.

The officer said they still weren't sure what had happened there. They would have to investigate this further. But the men could be dangerous. He advised her to be careful. Maybe she could go stay with someone away from this house until they had caught the men or a least had figured out what had happened there. He had one last question for her. He pointed over to a fireman holding something in his arms. She shook her head negatively.

* * *

With a groan, the younger Winchester blinked his eyes at the semi dark room. All he could remember was the green smoke and then some blurry visions of metal tables, awful needles, and a very inappropriately placed thermometer; he shivered at the fuzzy memory. He found difficulty rubbing his eyes. Then he slowly sat up and scanned the room. He quickly took notice of the large metal bars in front of him. Heart beating faster, he raced to the bars and observed the room.

A small hanging light fixture gave the room a creepy dim glow. He could just barely see more large cages on the other side of the room. It was too dark and the cages to distant for Sam to see inside them. He focused on the floor below instead, where the light had formed a bright circle on the floor. White tile seemed to be what was covering the floor. He felt a small bit of relief. Judging by the relatively niceness of the room, he probably wasn't in Hell or in Lucifer's cage. But he was still in some kind of cage in a place he couldn't remember being taken to.

He turned to face the inside of his cell. Maybe there was a clue inside. For the first time, he realized he was standing on a blue blanket. Wherever he was couldn't have been too bad if his captors had provided him with this soft accommodation. There was some sort of large purple box in the corner. On the other side were two large matching bowls. Wait! What was that in the corner? Maybe it was Dean. He hoped his brother was okay. He wondered if the spell had worked and did anything to the Mark.

The heap in the corner suddenly shifted, startling Sam from his thoughts. Now that it had moved a bit, the creature didn't look anything like his brother. It appeared to be asleep though. Sam could take this to his advantage, but quickly. The creature was waking up. With no weapons on him, the slightly still disoriented hunter prepared himself for a first fight and carefully approached the waking body. The closer he got, the more familiar the creature appeared, but it was way too large to be that. It turned over. Sam was surprised at his own actions as he was easily startled and jumped backwards away from the creature.

Saying the only thing his alarmed mind could think of, Sam stuttered, "Wh-where's D-Dean?"

"You're lookin' at him, stupid," the creature moaned, eyes still too tired to open.

"You're not my brother!" Sam protested, strange freight replaced with anger. This monster, whose deep voice soundly oddly very much like Dean's, was pretending to be his big brother! Groaning in frustration, the creature pushed its heavy, exhausted body upright, making Sam take a step back.

"Get your hair out of your eyes. It's me, Sammy," it spoke, finally lifting its eyelids. Sam and the creature both stared into each other's wide familiar eyes.

"Dean?" Sam questioned, staring at the creature that was currently wearing his brother's eyes.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, surprised by his brother's appearance. "What the he** happened to you?"

"Me? Look at you," Sam said, fully clearheaded now.

Giving each other strange looks, they both looked down at themselves. They were surprised to see that they were both the creature their brother was.

"What the fudge?!" Dean shouted at his own appearance, drowsiness gone.

Calming himself, Sam suggested, "Maybe it was the spell."

"Transformed and weak definitely describes us right now," he agreed, observing his new arms.

"Is the Mark still there?" he asked, hope in his voice.

After quickly checking his upper right arm, the oldest sighed, "Yep." "Looks like that dumb spell was completely useless after all, unless you wanted us to live like this for the rest of lives," he sneered, looking at himself again.

"Of course not, Dean," Sam said, getting mad at the situation they had found themselves in.

"I'm just saying, I'm a lot less dangerous like this," he said, a little anger dying in his voice.

"This is not a solution! The spell was supposed to fix that Mark, not turn us into this!" the youngest yelled, aggravation taking over.

This was just so typical of them: trying to fix something only for it to blow up in their faces. Sam began angrily pacing behind the bars. He, nor Dean, had time for this now. This was serious!

* * *

UNUNUNUNUNUNUNUN

* * *

Enraged more by the memory, Sam focused his mind back on the reflecting floor. The creature's pointy ears were pinned back against its round head. Little turfs of fur stood from the end of both hairy ears. Its white-ringed eyes were angrily narrowed. An almost black fluffy tail swished back and forth behind its fur covered body. The black-striped, brown fur was long, poofy, and lightened as it traveled from the back to the belly and face. White fur covered its puffed-out chest, whiskered muzzle, and four paws. An "M" was written across its furiously wrinkled forehead, which seemed to mark him as the Maine Coon kitten he'd been accidentally transformed into.

A small smiled crept up the side of his mouth. The pouty kitten looking at him was undeniably adorable. Plus, Sam had to admit that after all they had been through, being turned into weak little kittens while trying to save Dean from a mark that was turning him into a monster was just ridiculous. It was so much so it was funny. His brother was right.

Of course, his changed mood did not go unnoticed by his older brother, who smirked at the now smiling kitten. Sam quickly dropped his humorous expression. He was happy, ecstatic really, to see Dean truly being his normal jerky big brother. He had really missed it. Plus, it meant Dean was happy too, and that really made him feel good. But Sam didn't want him to know he had agreed with him. The situation was still serious, despite being funny at the moment.

Sam glanced at the other kitten reflection that was smirking at him. His green eyes too gave away his identity. His new body was covered in light brown, short fur. Darker brown fur ran halfway up his legs. His chest was a cream color. His tiny paws, tail, erect ears, and muzzle were black. He was a Siamese kitten who, just like in their human forms, had to look up at his little brother. After looking over his brother's new body, Sam smirked. A humorous idea had popped into his lately worried head. The Siamese kitten dropped his smile and turned his head to the side.

"What?" Dean asked, confused and a little nervous.

Sam raised his head back up so he could look directly at his brother. Then he gleefully said, "You called me adorable." Dean's eyes widened, and his ears dropped down.

"I-I…I was just…I…" he stammered. "I'm not gay!" he shouted.

"Are you sure? Calling your brother-turned-kitten 'the most adorable thing you've ever seen,' seems pretty homosexual to me," Sam teased.

"Sam, I've been with more chicks than you could ever dream of!" he defended.

"Calm down, Dean," he laughed, "It was just a joke."

"That's a sick joke, Sam. I'm your brother," he huffed, turning around and tail twitching.

"Eww, gross!" Sam said, tiny sandpaper tongue sticking out.

He shivered at the thought of doing anything like that with his brother. It was awkward and embarrassing enough to even see his brother naked, especially since Dean had no modesty and just thought it was funny to mortify Sam. But doing that?

He shook his head from the nightmare inducing thought and said, "I was just trying to get back at you, jerk."

Sam's ears perked up, waiting for his sibling's appropriate response. After a few seconds of silence, his ears went down. Maybe he took it too far. Dean was pretty proud of his manliness, and he wasn't exactly his usual self right now.

"Bit**." Sam's ears caught the sound a quiet muffled snark.

A half smile formed on his face. Dean turned his head to reveal his own sideways smile to Sam. Everything was right with the Winchester boys again, at least at that moment. In that one moment Sam could forget how much he worried for his brother, Dean could forget his fear, and they could just enjoy their brotherly teasing. The moment was short-lived, however, when they realized they were each looking at a kitten instead of their brother. Right. They still had to figure out how to get out of wherever they were and turn themselves human again.

* * *

 **Author's Note** **: I've edited this chapter just a bit, mostly just fixing a few grammatical errors and changing a bit of the format. I did change one little thing from the content at the very end because I don't think they would assume anything about their location yet. Sorry, it took me so long to get back to this story. I love writing it, but life gets in the way sometimes. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and feel free to review!**

 **Also, if anyone is interested, I have posted sort of a cover-art for this story on my Deviantart account (same username: Goodie Two-Shoes).**

 **P.S. I'm still not caught up on the show, so no spoilers, please. And ** means bleeping out of curse words, in case it wasn't obvious.**

 **Thanks for the review, TotallyChic! I'm really glad you want another chapter! I'm working on it. And thanks to all those who favorited and followed and to all you other readers!**


	2. Chapter 2: Blame it on the Restaurant

**Disclaimer** **: I don't own "Supernatural" or its characters.**

 **Thanks again for the review and fave, TotallyChic! I finally got another chapter up for you! Thanks to Jjoan, kamem, BballLady34, O smrt1, and summerrayah for the follows and favs and thanks to everyone else as well! It may have taken me a while to get this up, but at least it's a long chapter. Enjoy! (More notes at end.)**

* * *

Chapter 2: Blame it on the Restaurant

Reality dashed away the fond moment the two brothers shared as they were reminded of the fact they were kittens still sitting idly in a cage in an unknown location. The spell that Dean had accidentally casted, not only did not rid him of the cursed Mark, but also landed he and his brother into more trouble.

"You good?" Dean asked Sam, making sure his brother had completely cooled down from his angry pacing.

"Yeah," the Maine Coon answered. After reevaluating to find the humor in their still serious situation and teasing each other like old times, Sam was no longer ragging mad. "You?"

"Yeah. Let's get outta here," the older sibling ordered.

They both needed to be clear headed and calm before they tried busting out of the cage. It could be dangerous out there. But out there meant a chance to reverse the transformation. In here, they were sitting ducks at the mercy of their captors, whose identity was still completely unidentified.

The pair inspected the cell's door and realized there was no lock. The gate was just held closed by two simple latches. Whoever put them there either underestimated their abilities or wasn't trying very hard to keep them in, which made escaping feel like it could be a trap. But it was worth the risk; they couldn't stay there.

While Sam attempted to figure out how the latches worked, Dean scoped the small room. Across from them were the many metal cages his brother had seen only minutes ago when he awoke. They consisted of two rows of about a dozen cages each all connected together. To the right, was a sink with a large counter space and cabinets above and below. To the left, was a smooth wooden door with a twist-down metal handle: their way out. A dim red flash above the exit caught his green eyes.

"Stealth mode," Dean ordered his brother, pointing above the door at the security camera with the blinking red light. That made things a bit more difficult, but they could handle it. It was mostly dark in the room, so all they had to do was stay in the shadows.

"Camera," the youngest responded with a nod, spotting the security device. Having solved the latches, he carefully stood on his hind legs and reached for the top one first. His tiny forelegs couldn't quite get the fastener. "Give me a lift," he instructed.

Eyeing the kitten's larger body, Dean obeyed the request. He stood below the latch on all fours and waited. Sam carefully climbed onto his brother's back and then used the vertical bars for support to stand up. Pushing up the small handle of the latch, it slid from his paw before he could move it over to release it from the metal loop. He tried again getting the same result.

After a minute of holding up his brother, Dean huffed, "Hurry up, Butterfingers!" His brother wasn't as heavy as he expected, but his little legs were getting tired.

"Fingers are the problem or the lack of," Sam retorted. Finally, after like the twentieth time, he succeeded with the simple task. "Got it," he almost cheered. Intending only to lay on his stomach to make it easier for his brother to get down, Dean quickly dropped onto his belly, his legs giving out. The top kitten fell down, landing on the other and tumbling onto the cage floor. "Deeean," the downed feline groaned.

"Next time you lift me, Catsquatch," the short-haired grunted, standing up. "I got this one," he said, referring to the bottom fastener.

As Sam rolled over onto his white paws, Dean worked on the troublesome latch. After only about fifteen tries, he succeeded. He gently pushed the gate open with a smug grin. His little brother just ignored him and peeked over the edge. There was a cell below them that matched theirs. In front of it was a shadow casted by the cages where they could hide from the camera.

"Cats always land on their feet, right?" the Siamese asked, warily peering down at the distant floor.

"That's more of an old expression than a fact," Sam said honestly, wondering if the fall was too far for a couple of little kittens. "Maybe we should climb down."

"We don't know what could be in that cage," the oldest pointed out, leaning forward to see more of the bottom cell's interior. He scooted to the edge on his belly and then braced his black paws against the outside of the cage. Looking upside down at the bottom cell, he couldn't quiet see inside. He allowed himself to slide a bit further down. "I don't see anyth…" he stopped, feeling his paws quickly sliding. "Sam!" he shouted, seeing the ground rapidly approaching. His claws retracted automatically as he hurriedly attempted and failed to back up.

"Dean!" his sibling quickly responded, trying to grab the kitten with his useless paws before he dropped.

Paws failing, Sam instinctively bit onto the black tail, the only part of the Siamese left within reach causing a small, surprised, baby cat sound to erupt from Dean. The larger kitten tried to pull his brother back up, but the latter's weight was too much. Digging his claws into the blanket, only achieved in bringing it with him as he slid out the cage and followed after his brother's descent.

Proving the expression right, Dean roughly landed on his front feet. Unfortunately, his back feet brought his brother, still attached to his tail, on top of him. The blue blanket followed right behind, gently covering them in its soft embrace. A bump underneath frantically moved about until the blanket uncovered it. A puffy, wide-eyed Siamese was exposed heavily breathing. Immediately, the blue fabric began moving again, starling the kitten. As the Maine Coon desperately kicked the cover off him, Dean jumped backwards with a hiss.

Rolling off his back, an owl-eyed Sam asked, "Dean?" His startled mind wondered what had hissed.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, alarmed. "You bite me?!" he asked, looking down at him, hair still standing on end.

"Y-yeah. I was trying to stop you from falling," he answered a little more calmly, sitting up and assuming it was Dean who had hissed. He would have made fun of him for it and for the little squeal he let escape earlier, but his shaky voice didn't make him feel he had the upper hand.

"Oh. Good. Thanks," the shaken-up kitten said. He took a few steady breaths, trying to cool down. He was glad his brother wasn't fairing much better because he felt ridiculous getting so worked up over a little fall and a painless bite.

"You okay?" the youngest asked, feeling less startled.

"I think so. I just got…freaked out from the fall or something," the less puffy kitten answered, trying to relax.

"Yeah, I felt that too. It happened earlier after I woke up before I knew you were you," Sam shared, remembering how he had jumped back when Dean had rolled over. "I think it's a kitten thing."

"Must be," he agreed, feeling like he had the ghost sickness again. The bite, the fall, the being a landing pad for his larger brother, and the blanket would freak out any feline. "Come on. We need to keep movin'," he instructed, shaking off the frightened feeling.

The Maine Coon nodded and swiftly hid the blanket under the cage, which was empty like Dean had tried to say. As the older quickly made his way to the door, Sam glanced up at their cage door. It was barely open and still in the shadow of the cell, so hopefully no one on the other side of that camera would notice. Then he hurriedly followed after his brother, staying in the dark.

Curiously and cautiously, Sam peeked in the cages as he headed for the door. He hoped he'd find clues to where they were. Not that it really mattered, they were leaving regardless of their location, but he would still like to know. Most of the cells were empty, but a few housed large, furry animals that had their backs to the outside. Stopping to quickly look at the first one, he realized it was a cat. The few other creatures that were caged were felines as well. He made it to the door as his brother fell back down onto the floor after failing to grab the handle.

"There're cats caged in here," the largest whispered, suddenly feeling they should be quiet as to not wake the other captives in the room. A bunch of meowing cats would not due well with their stealth mode.

"I noticed," Dean responded, his attention on the high-up handle.

He scrunched down, wiggled his butt a bit, and then pounced up towards the handle. Swinging his little paws around, he didn't jump quiet far enough up to touch the metal handle. He dropped back down on the laminate tile floor with a gentle thud. He growled under his breath and readied himself for another try.

"Maybe we weren't put in that cell because of who we are. Maybe we are here because of what we are," Sam pondered, observing the room again and ignoring his brother's funny jump.

"I'm sick of riddles, Sammy," he said, thinking about all the confusing spells he had read in that old house. "Spit it out," he demanded, leaping up without enough mustard again.

"I'm saying, maybe whoever brought us here doesn't know who we are. Maybe we're here because they think we are just kittens," the Maine Coon clarified, watching his brother fall again.

"Hmm. That's a new one," he said, turning his attention to Sam. "That explains the easy escape," he reasoned, looking back up at the open cell.

"And why we aren't the only cats here," the tallest continued, peering up at the handle to give it a try himself. "I think this is an animal shelter," he concluded, coping his brother's moves and making a jump at the metal knob. He didn't get any closer.

"The pound?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah," he answered, hitting the floor.

"Well at least we're ador…not ugly or anything," the Siamese stopped himself before he was accused of anything again.

"Why would that matter?" Sam asked, looking away from the handle to his brother.

"Worse comes to worse, we won't be put down. We're too cute not to be adopted," Dean explained with a little grin.

"We won't be here that long. We're getting out, now," he said seriously, not finding Dean's statement funny at all. What was his brother going on about?

"Of course. I just sayin', if things don't go as planned, we don't have to worry about being put to sleep. The cute ones always go first," the Siamese reiterated. "Lighten up, Sammy." He jumped for the handle again, missing. "This isn't gonna work," he stated, still looking at the untouched handle.

"Here," Sam offered, getting an idea.

He laid on his belly in front of the door. Understanding the plan, Dean backed up as far as he could without getting into the light and then raced towards his brother. As the Siamese jumped on the other's back, the latter pushed up off the ground. Dean leapt off the moving back up towards the handle. Finally, he succeeded, grabbing the metal. Paws holding on, his body went down, pulling the handle along with it. The movement caused the door to open just slightly. Sam stuck his tiny white paw through the small gap and slowly pulled the door open just enough to fit through. Seeing the sliver off light coming through the door, the hanging kitten let go and landed on the floor. Then he joined his brother.

"Anything out there?" Dean whispered to his sibling, who was peeking out the door.

"A dark hallway and some doors. Camera, right corner," the youngest observed. "It's clear, and there's an exit right here," he concluded, "Let's go."

The fluffy kitten squeezed through the tight doorway and waited for his brother away from the light. The smaller, short-hair easily slipped right through behind him. As he headed for the metal door with the bright red exit sign, the youngest slid his paw under the door and pulled it to, but not closed just in case they needed to get back inside. Then he met his brother at the exit, which, fortunately, was directly to the right adjacent to their door at the end of the very short hall. The camera was in the right corner above the exit and pointed down the long end of the hall, which had many doors on both sides.

"Lift," Dean whispered, backing up away from the exit.

Sam laid down in front of the door. Using him like a springboard again, the smaller kitten grabbed onto the horizontal pusher on the door and pulled himself up. The Siamese pressed again the pusher with his back feet as the other kitten leaned into the bottom of metal door with his upper body. It didn't budge. "Locked," he quietly told Sam, turning around to look down at him.

"Use your claws," the kitten quietly hollered from the floor.

"Forgot I had these," the oldest commented, viewing his retracted, sharp nails.

He spotted the little key hole and carefully walked along the pusher over to it. Bending forward, he stuck one claw inside the thin hole and wiggled his paw around. One good thing about being a kitten, they always had lock picks on hand…or on paw. Feeling like a hungry cartoon cat picking the lock to a bird cage, he continued twisting his paw until he heard a faint click. He resumed his position to push, and they tried again with success. As the door slowly opened, Sam carefully walked on his hide legs along with the door until he could see a sliver of outside.

"Okay," Sam said, letting his brother know he could come down.

The heavy door shoved the Maine Coon backwards as Dean jumped down. He quickly helped his sibling push before it latched closed again. Together, they succeeded in opening the solid door and quickly slipped through before it shut on their small bodies.

"That wasn't so bad," the tallest stated, "Considering." No alarms, guards, traps, demons, or anything tried to stop them. Probably their easiest escape yet. If they were humans, they could have been out in a minute. As it were, it only took about ten, tops, and that was with the added difficulty of being pint sized.

"Don't count your chickens just yet, Sammy," Dean advised tensely. "Run!" he shouted, making a hard left away from the door and racing along the brick building.

Seeing a giant, black Doberman charging towards him, Sam darted after his brother. Hearts racing and paws thumping through the short grass, they rushed against the cool night air as fast as their short legs could go. Still running along the bricks, Dean realized he had made the wrong turn towards the longer side of the building. Nonetheless, he saw the end up head. Hearing his brother close behind, he quickly slid through the dirt around the corner. Up head was a tall fence that was surrounding most of the brick structure. This end of the fence connected to the side of the building. All they had to do was slip through the tiny holes in the chain-link, and they'd be free of this place and the guard dog.

"Dean!" the Siamese heard his little brother's heart stopping scream.

Dean instantly slowed down with a slide while turning around. Before he even stopped, he charged in the opposite direction towards his sibling, kicking dirt up behind him.

"I'm coming, Sammy!" he yelled, running right at the large beast that held the tiny kitten in his teeth.

Both fuming animals with fangs bared, ears pinned back, and eyes full of rage raced towards each other, neither backing down. Hanging by the scruff of his neck from the large dog's mouth, the Maine Coon thought he saw his brother's eyes turn black. He must have been mistaken. Dean hadn't gone demon in a long time; he had it under control. The dark night must have been playing tricks on him; the charging kitten's eyes looked their normal green again.

Fueled with anger towards the mutt and apprehension for his brother, the older kitten leapt towards the much larger dog's face. He landed on the huge muzzle and dug his razor claws into the skin. The Doberman yelp, releasing Sam. The dog trashed its head around attempting to throw the little menace off its face.

After hitting the ground, the striped kitten jumped to its feet and clawed one of the large black paws. As planned, the dog stopped to see what scratched its foot, giving Dean the chance to let go. Before they could run, a large paw pinned down Sam almost covering his entire body. Dean jumped on the giant foot, claws out. Large teeth swiftly came down around his neck and pulled him off. Involuntarily, the Siamese curled into himself and found he couldn't move or curse out the attack dog.

"That's enough outta you two," a muffled, rough voice commanded.

Sam, shocked by the talking dog, immediately ceased struggling under the enormous foot. They were all animals, so it made sense. Still, it was surprising to hear for the first time. Hearing the canine talk, Dean was taken back to the time not too long ago when his mind was turned half-way into a dog. "I'm taking both of you back in," the irritated Doberman growled.

"Wait!" the Maine Coon protested, as the large mouth came towards him.

Ignoring the fluffy kitten's plea, the black dog skillfully nipped the scruff of Sam's neck without releasing Dean. He lifted both of them up and carried them back around the building. The two kittens tried to argue and fight, but both were mute and paralyzed by the scruff hold. They continued around the building, and he took them towards a door with a small flap. The pair must have been too focused on running away earlier to notice it before. The guard dog stopped in front of the flap and waited. A beep and a flash on his collar and the doggy door signaled him to go through.

Sensing the tension from the two small felines, the large canine explained calmly through his closed teeth, "This is a shelter for strays and lost pets. The humans here just want to help. You'll be safe here. There's no need to be afraid."

If they could believe this dog, then Sam's guess was confirmed: they were in an animal shelter. Everything they had seen so far pointed to this being a shelter, and the canine hadn't harmed them even after they had attacked him. The large animal carried them through a hall towards a room with blue-tinned lights. Forced to go along with the ride, the kittens just took everything in and hoped the dog wasn't lying. Entering though the open doorway, the dog ruffed.

"Fender, what'cha got, boy?" a burly man in a dark grey uniform questioned the canine. The man, Phil according to his name tag, stood from his computer chair and knelt in front of the dog. "Kittens?" Phil asked, looking at the two tiny animals. "Where'd you find these two?" he said to the Doberman.

"Outside. They came from in here," Fender ruffed a response through his closed mouth. The brothers looked towards each other both wondering if the dog could actually speak English.

"I wonder if they're one of ours" the man said to himself, eyeing both felines.

"That what I…huuuh, why do I even try?" the dog growled with a sigh. No English, just a desperate dog hoping a human would finally understand him.

"I didn't see anything on the monitors," the presumable security guard said aloud, standing up. He turned to look at the many security screens on the large crescent shaped desk in front of his discarded chair. He squinted at one of the screens, barely making out what could be an open cage. It was hard to tell in the dark room. "What the?" he said under his breath.

Pushing some buttons that controlled the screens, he rewound the footage on the monitor. Then playing it back, he watched in awe as a darker spot in the shadows fell out of the barely visible open cage and moved around until it separated into three. One went under the cages, and the other two headed towards the door, which was under the camera and not visible. Then he saw a bit of light from the door before it was gone. Quickly pressing some more buttons, he watched the hallway footage of the two shadows moving towards the exit out of the camera's range. Then he saw a bit of moon light shining and then disappearing as if the exit were opened a bit and then shut back.

Mouth a gap in shock, Phil slowly turned his head towards the two tiny escape artists. Still angry at being caught and unable to move, the Siamese glared up at the man. No wanting to make the guard anymore suspicious of them than he must already be, Sam just gave him his best, innocent, big puppy eyes.

"Aww!" Phil cooed at the Maine Coon. "Let me just get you two back in your cage," he said, cute distraction making him look over their miraculous escape and decide to just return them instead. Their cell wasn't the best option, but at least they'd be able to move again. He quickly set the monitors back to the present and checked the others before he left. "Come on, Fender," he called the canine as he exited the security room.

Walking down the hall with Fender following behind, Phil suddenly stopped beside a door. He hummed and took the keys from his belt loop. As the man unlocked the wooden door, Sam glanced up at the sign beside it that read 'Office'. The guard lead them inside and turned on the lights. The black-haired man sat down at the desk, turned on a computer, and began typing. Dutifully, Fender patiently sat down beside the human, unintentionally giving to pair of kittens a perfect view of the screen.

"Here we go, your records," Phil said, glancing at the two dangling felines, "I'm curious to see how you two ended up here in the first place." All four of their little ears perked up; the Winchesters were too. This was the perfect opportunity to discover what happened earlier that night after they had passed out. "Maybe you were part of the circus or somethin'," he laughed, turning back to the computer. Both brothers quickly read the monitor along with the guard.

According to their records, the Siamese and Maine Coon kittens of about twelve weeks of age were discovered at around eight that night in an abandon house on the outskirts of the small town. The shelter had gotten a call from the fire department to come pick up the kittens from their station. Upon arrival at the fire department, the animal control officers were told that the house where the two kittens were found was now a restricted area due to the police finding several suspicious items and evidence of two missing, possible dangerous men. Both the police and firefighters had come to the house after the former had received a call from a woman reporting an explosion of green smoke in the abandon house not far from her home. This information was to remain classified to anyone other than the shelter staff, the police officers, and the firemen. The kittens were now evidence and were to be held at the shelter until further notice as ordered by the local police department. The tiny groggy pair received a clean bill of health and some fluids to rehydrate them before they were placed in kennel five in stray cat room two.

"You two are those kittens?" Phil questioned, turning away from the screen, "They told me about the two kittens we're keepin' for the cops when they brought them in after closing about an hour ago. That's you two?" Squinting his brown eyes and pursing his lips, he glared between the pair.

Thinking quickly, the Maine Coon hit him with his innocent eyes again. The man's stare softened a bit, and then he just focused on the Siamese. Coping his brother, he did his best impression of Sam's puppy eyes. Cute kitten body on his side, his attempt worked well enough for the man to aww at them.

"There's no way you two had anything to do with that smoke explosion. Heh, I must be outta my mind," he laughed to himself. "The doors must have not been shut properly or somethin'," he reasoned their escape. Closing out the window and then shutting off the computer, he said, "Let's get you two VICs back in your place." Dean rolled his eyes at Phil's joke, as the man turned out the lights and then led their ride back into the hall. After relocking the office, the guard continued their journey down the dim hallway.

Once they arrived at stray cat room two, the guard noticed the unclosed door and said to himself, "See, it wasn't shut." He easily pushed the wooden door open and went inside, Doberman directly behind. Instructing Fender to sit near the open cage, the night guard observed the cell. "Maybe the latches were just loose," Phil offered, fiddling with the fasteners. Then he bent down to look under the cages, remembering the darker spot moving under the cells. Spotting a dark mound, he reached under and pulled it out. Seeing that it was just the blanket from their cage, he refolded the soft fabric and laid it back in its spot. Then turning back to the dog, he commanded, "Cage."

Obediently, Fender stood on his hindlegs and carefully placed his front paws onto the high cell's floor. Lightly placing the kittens on the blanket, the canine removed his gentle grip from their necks. Before the tiny fur balls could recover, the guard dog jumped down and allowed the human to swiftly close the cage. After making sure the latches were working well, Phil walked over to the sink. He rummaged through the drawers and then returned with two locks

"Just in case," the security guard stated, placing one lock on each latch. Slowly getting to their feet, the kittens tried to shake off the weird numb feeling. "Good boy," Phil praised the dog with a pat on his furry head. The canine panted and barked a thank you. "Come on, Fender. Let me take a look at those scratches," the man instructed, noticing the small lines of dried blood on the dog's face and left paw.

Before he took the canine to the examination room, he checked the exit door to make sure it was locked. Seeing that it wasn't, he quickly locked it and chalked the furry run-aways' escape up to luck and inattentive closing staff.

* * *

"Cops?!" Dean yelled, falling down for the second time since the human and canine guards left. Numb legs still too unsteady to hold him, the wobbly Siamese sat up instead and shook his tiny head.

"I know," Sam agreed, trying to stay upright on his rear while blinking widely.

The Maine Coon still felt very disoriented. While being carried by their scruffs, the pair felt completely normal, aside from the paralysis and inability to speak. But, now that they were released from the long, extended hold, their bodies were having a hard time readjusting.

"We got to shake this and get the hel* outta here, now," the older stated in frustration, standing wide-legged like a newborn fawn.

With the exception of their allies Sheriff Jody Mills and, more recently, Sherriff Donna Hanscum, it never fared well for the Winchester when the law got involved. Unable to explain their actions without revealing the truth about the supernatural, the two hunters always came out on the wrong side in the cops' eyes. Since the mass murder incident with the Leviathans a few years ago, they were especially not interested in getting back on the cops' radar. Not to mention all the killings demon Dean committed.

Finally feeling steady, a determined Dean leapt up on the gate, hung onto the lock through the bars with his front paws, and immediately stuck a claw into the key hole while bracing his back feet against the cell bars. While the Siamese picked the top lock, the Maine Coon got to his feet. Numbness gone, Sam ran to the gate and began working on the bottom padlock.

"The dogs with the guard. If we hurry, we can get out of the fence before the dog gets back," the younger explained, remembering what Phil had said. "What's our plan?" Sam questioned, twisting his sharp nail inside the thin keyhole.

"You just said it," the short-hair stated, successfully unlocking the padlock.

Attempting to free the lock from the latch's handle, Dean shook the lock, making a loud rattling sound. He was in too much of a hurry now to care if any cats heard him. The longer they stayed there, the more the trouble the cops would cause for them to fix later.

"I mean once we get out of the fence. What are we going to do about the police? We don't even know where this shelter is?" the biggest asked, pushing up on the unlocked padlock. After releasing his lock, Dean slid down the bar with it and almost landed on his brother.

"We'll figure it out later. We need to get out of here now, while Turner and Hooch busy," the smallest voiced, getting up and leaving the lock hanging on the bar. Once Sam had freed the bottom lock from the latch, Dean requested, "Give me a lift."

With the help of his brother's back, Dean reached the latch and opened it after only a few tries this time. Once the top one was done, the eldest jumped down and let Sam get the other fastener.

"I'm not sure winging it is going to be enough this time. We aren't ourselves, Dean," the Maine Coon worried, struggling with the latch.

"I've noticed," Dean remarked, glancing down at his furry arms and paws. "We have a good chance to get out now. Either we go now or be stuck here at the pound until we get another one," the oldest explained, waiting for his brother, "I'm not sure when that'll be. This place'll be crawling with crazy cat ladies tomorrow. It's now or never. You want to be stuck here and be manhandled and gawked at by those people tomorrow?"

"No. You're right. We'll just figure something out later," he agreed, getting the latch opened and pushing the gate open. Then he peered down, wondering if they should just jump to save time; they were fine last time.

Suddenly, a blur dashed passed Sam and out of the cage. The Maine Coon watched as his brother landed on all four on the ground.

"Come on, Sammy. We're in a hurry here," Dean quietly yelled up to the kitten still in the cage as the former ran towards the exit.

The short-hair would rather just bite the bullet and jump than think about it too much and chicken out, so he had just gone for it. He wasn't a fan of heights. It wasn't as bad the second time, especially since his descent was intentional this time.

"Coming," Sam called, pulling the gate closed as much as he could.

Then he dropped out of the cage more than he jumped, going straight down. Air blowing his fur upwards, he quickly fell towards the floor. Feeling a bit of an adrenalin rush from the long fall, he roughly landed on his paws. Immediately, he raced towards the door where his brother was waiting for him to be his springboard. No sooner than the long-hair had reached the door, Dean was running towards him.

After leaping off his back, the Siamese reached the handle. He waited a few seconds for Sam to pull the door open, then he dropped and squeezed through the door gap. The younger followed and then waited by the exit door. As before, Dean used Sam to reach the door. Then he picked the lock again and pressed the handle with his back feet. The largest pushed the door until the other dropped down to help.

"Crap!" the short-hair cursed, peeking through the crack in the door. "Dog's back," he informed Sam.

"The fence doesn't surround the entire building. We can go out the front," the youngest suggested, remembering from before.

"That'll take longer. We can go to the right this time; I think it's shorter," Dean argued, watching the dog jog out into the yard.

"I don't know, Dean. I think it's safer to stay in here and find the front door," he reasoned, still helping his brother hold the exit open.

"What about the cameras? The guard's already on to us," he pointed out, metal door getting heavy.

"If one of them notices us, the guard will have a harder time finding and catching us. Let's go out the front," the tallest explained, letting go of the heavy door.

"Fine. Let's go," the Siamese huffed, abandoning the door and taking off down the hall. The exit slowly closed as Sam quickly trailed after his brother.

* * *

After navigating through the halls of the shelter for several minutes, Sam was beginning to worry. Neither of them really knew their way through the building. They had only seen a few rooms and halls when they were being carried by the guard dog. When his brother took the lead, the youngest hoped he would find the way to the front door sooner than now. Racing along the walls in the shadows, he wondered if something was bothering the Siamese. He was practically running down the hallways barely allowing the Maine Coon to keep up or read the signs beside the doors, none of which mentioned an exit. He knew his sibling wasn't happy about the police's involvement-which hastened and amplified his desire to escape-but it seemed to be more than that, like he was trying to distance himself from the youngest.

"Dean, could you slow down?" Sam asked, a little winded.

"We're in a hurry here, Sam," he responded, keeping his fast pace.

"I know, but…do you know where you're going?" the long-hair carefully questioned as not to upset him more. He had read the 'Quarantine' sign three times now.

"Yeah, that's why I've been taking us in circles," he sarcastically answered, turning a corner he knew he had seen before, "I thought I'd be fun." "Of course, I don't know. I've never been here," he said, aggravation clear in his voice. He wished his little brother would stop talking; he was trying to get them out of there before the guard noticed they had broken out their cell again.

"Maybe we should stop for a second and figure this out," the tallest suggested, slowing down.

Slowing to a stop and turning to face the other, the oldest spat, "Another plan?" His brother halted in front of him, leaving a few inches between them.

"I just think we need to think for a minute and stop blindly running through the shelter," he responded, trying to keep calm against the way in which he was being spoken. He knew the Mark his sibling still wore continued to affect him. Even though he was getting aggravated at the other's behavior towards him, Sam didn't want to angry him or start a fight.

"It was your idea to stay inside and navigate this maze!" the short-hair almost yelled, not wanting to hold back his rage anymore. He just wanted to rush out of the puzzling pound already, and the younger kitten was preventing him.

"It wasn't my plan to run around in circles until the guard discovers us! You're the one who started racing down the hall without direction!" Sam snapped, now too frustrated to care about the other feline's feelings.

"If you'd have just let me out that door, I could'a taken down that mutt, and we'd be home free by now!" Dean argued, green eyes hard and angry ears flat.

"Is that what this is about: revenge?" he questioned, glaring heatedly.

"That dog has it comin' after what he did to us!" he defended, short fur rising in rage.

"He was just doing his job, Dean! He didn't even try to hurt us, even after you practically scratched his eyes out!" the youngest furiously countered, furry ears pinned back.

"I would have this time, if you'd have let me outside!" the oldest retorted, claws unknowingly retracting.

"And what would that have accomplished?!" Sam interrogated, long hair puffing out further.

"Knocking that mutt down to size, and getting us out of here! Unlike your dumb plan!" Dean angrily answered, sharp teeth showing.

"My plan was logical; your plan was made out of anger! If you'd have just slowed down and paid attention to where you were going, we'd have found the door by now!" Sam refuted, claws sliding out.

Feeling his nails dig against the hard tile floor, the fluffy kitten looked down at the sharp blades scrapping the laminate and realized how much he allowed his angry to physically manifest through his tiny body. Arguing wasn't getting them any closer to escaping the shelter. Pulling in his claws back into his paws, he tried to calm himself before he attempted to bring his brother back down. How could he have let himself argue so harshly with Dean when he was supposed to be protecting his big brother from his own wrath?

"We! Are! In! A! Hurry!" the Siamese shouted. "How many times do I have to say that!?" he growled, nostrils flaring.

"Okay, I get it. We need to get out of here," he calmly agreed, "So, we need to stop arguing and calm…"

"Calm down?! Don't tell me to calm down!" the furious brother interjected, "We're stuck as these useless pint-sized fur balls while the cops are out there sticking their noses into all our stuff! And you won't let me show that dog who's boss!" His back arched, completing the image of a wild feline ready to attack.

"I know. This has gotten more serious now. I'm sorry for arguing," the Maine Coon apologized, stepping back a bit from his brother's intense frame. He knew Dean would never intentionally hurt him, but the raging Siamese in front of him intimidated his kitten mind. "Let's just find our way…" he suddenly stopped. Small ears perking up, he heard the soft sound of slow footsteps approaching.

"What?" the older quietly asked, aggravation leaving his voice.

His furious expression transformed into a concerned one as his curved back straightened and his flat ears rose. The silence of the dim hall was filled with the steady sound of leather on tile. A long, dark silhouette crept up the wall behind Sam as its owner approached the back corner. Seeing the shadow getting smaller as the figure got closer, Dean quickly pushed his brother against the brick wall. The Maine Coon turned around to face the approaching sound, and both kittens pressed low to the ground and against the white bricks. The small pair waited tensely as they silently watched and listened.

Around the corner walked the burly guard. The uniformed man gazed around and then squinted into the hallway beside him. To the hidden kittens, it seemed as though he was staring right at them. Phil made a face and reached for something on his belt. He pulled out a black shinny object and looked down to fumble with it in the darkness. Recognizing the item as a flashlight, Sam hurriedly ushered his brother to follow him down the hall.

They raced stealthily along the wall as the guard finally found the switch. Flashlight turning on, its light brightened it's end of the hallway. Quickly reaching the next hall, the brothers slid across the title floor while trying to turn the corner. As the light crept down the main hallway, the pair hit the far wall. They swiftly got to their feet as the light got closer. Just as the guard shined the flashlight onto the back wall, Dean's black tail slipped out of sight.

The Winchesters continued to run, unsure if Phil had seen them or would follow. Sam swiftly slid while turning into another hall instead of proceeding to the end of their current one. Dean followed, slipping into the brick barrier just as his brother pushed off of it and raced towards the opposite one. The Siamese copied the other and hid against the front wall closet to the guard. White fuzzy chest heaving, the younger peaked around the corner and observed that the same wall was still illuminated. The light suddenly vanished and descending footsteps followed.

"He's gone," Sam breathed, stepping back behind the white bricks. He sat down to take a short rest. Not hearing a response, the Maine Coon turned around. "Dean?" he called, spotting his brother staring up at something as he slowly headed down the hallway. The tallest stood and caught up to the short-hair. Seeing the large glass doors across the main lobby room, he smiled, "We found it."

"About time," Dean said, peering up at the front doors. "Come on, before the guard gets back to his post," the oldest ordered, racing towards the exit.

After reaching the glass barricades, Sam helped his brother jump up to the handles, which were squared C-shaped metal ones that were pull open. Dean hung from the bottom horizontal bar of the right door and then finally pulled himself up to balance on the short narrow round rod. He rapidly picked the locks and decided on how he would open one of the tricky doors before he lost his unsteady balance. Laying on his left side and holding onto the vertical metal bar in front of him, he pushed his back feet against the vertical rod on the other handle and braced his back against his door. While the Siamese grunted and battled with the challenging task, Sam waited on the floor for his part to arise.

After staring at the meeting line of the set of exits for a few minutes waiting for a gap to open up, the youngest glanced up. His brother seemed to be losing the fight to the door, but he wasn't giving up. With nothing to grab onto from the ground, Sam knew he could do nothing to help at the moment. So, he looked around from his position. There was a large, long desk to his right with a computer and some papers on top. Below one of the stacks of paper was a flyer for the shelter. 'Forever Home Animal Shelter' was written in big letters on the top followed by the shelter's information and pull off phone numbers for interested visitors.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!

Startled by the sudden deafening sound, the freaked out Main Coon darted under the desk. Equally surprised, the frightened Siamese jumped and fell off the handle just as he had finally forced the door open a hair. As the kitten hit the ground, he realized the timing of the sound and the opening door could not be a coincidence.

"It's an alarm!" Dean shouted over the blaring noise at the empty spot where his brother had been. "Sam!?" he yelled, getting to his feet and looking for the missing feline.

"D-Dean," a quiet voice was barely audible.

The oldest spotted a pair of wide greenish-brown eyes under the desk. Before Dean could make his next move, rapid footsteps hastened towards the lobby. The short-hair hurried towards the desk as the alarm and footsteps continued. The guard raced in, just as the kitten slid under the table with his shaken sibling.

"You two again!" Phil bellowed, this time spotting the black tail as it slipped under desk.

Eyes not leaving the kittens' hiding spot, the security guard jogged to the glass doors and turned off the alarm. Before he could attempt to coax the felines out, the Doberman raced in having heard the alarm. Phil immediately put up his hand to halt the guard dog. Fender instantly stopped. With a finger snap and point, the human guard silently directed the canine to go around behind the desk. The dog obeyed, and the tiny pair saw the black paws come into view from under their shelter. On the other side, appeared Phil's forced friendly face.

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty," the guard called with a welcoming tone, lying on the hard floor.

"Like that's gonna work," Dean said under his breath, before considering the guy might freak out hearing a cat talk.

Phil seemed unmoved as he continued his call, so the irritated feline just glared, assuming the man in front of him couldn't understand his speech. He was really getting tired of this guy messing up their escapes. Although, the guard mutt had owned most of the blame the first time. Now they had to find a way to get away from both these stupid guards.

"Come outta there. I told you we just want to help," Fender reminded from the other side. The striped kitten glanced back at Phil to be sure he couldn't understand them before turning back to the Doberman.

"We have to get out of here. It's very important," Sam told the dog, his back against his brother's as he faced the canine.

Alarm no longer blaring, the Maine Coon had calmed down and was now focused on the task at hand: convincing this dog to let them go and maybe help them out of this confounded place. Although he didn't show it as much, the younger hunter was just as ready as his sibling to leave this place behind them. He wanted to fix this mess and get back to finding a cure for the Mark.

"You'll be safe here. We'll find your forever home," the canine tried to reason with the long-hair as the human continued his attempt to lure out the short-hair.

"We already have one!" Dean yelled, keeping his eyes on his guard. He would continue watching the security man, until his brother talked their way out of there.

"You have owners?" the Doberman questioned, a bit surprised. The dog tilted his head, but didn't move from his position.

"Not exactly. We aren't what you think we are," the Maine Coon hinted at the truth, unsure if he should relieve anything to this canine guard.

He hoped to get Fender on their side and make their escape either. But he wasn't positive he could trust the dog enough to tell him they were humans. Not to mention, the canine would probably think them crazy if he did.

"What are you then?" the black dog asked, tilting his head the other way.

The Siamese quickly interrupted before Sam could say too much, "Listen, dog. We have a job to do. So, let us go!"

Hastily improvising, Dean swiftly spun around and swiped his claws at the large muzzle, hoping a quick scratch on the nose would distract the animal long enough for him and his brother to flee. The plan backfired, for when he turned around, he gave the human guard the opportunity to nab him by the scruff. Phil pulled the kitten away before his claws met the large black nose. The youngest hurriedly tried to save his sibling, making the same mistake. Fender grab the Main Coon's own scruff.

Dragging Sam out from under the desk, the Doberman informed evenly, "I have a job to do too."

* * *

Finally, the quartet came to a stop at a metal door after moving through the endless labyrinth again. The pair of kittens had paid close attention this time around. As Phil found the correct key with one hand, the younger Winchester spotted the sign that read 'Storage'. After unlocking the door, the guard let his canine partner inside. Still holding the Siamese in one hand, the man dug around the storage room and retrieved a plastic cat carrier. Setting the small crate up on its backside with the opening pointing upwards, the guard call the dog over.

"Release," Phil instructed, pointing into the carrier.

Fender listened and gentle dropped the Maine Coon inside. Immediately, Dean fell in afterwards on top of his brother. The gate swiftly closed and latched behind him before the two kittens could get untangled from each other. Before they managed to get to their numb feet, the ground lifted up and over, sending them onto the proper carrier floor as Phil righted the crate.

"Security room," the man ordered the dog. "And keep an eye on them!" he added as Fender left the storage room, carrier's handle held firming in his jaws.

* * *

Either from previous experience or from a shorter hold, the two kittens recovered more quickly from the scruff grasp this time. Peeking through the small side holes, Sam saw they hadn't made it too far, but the guard did not seem to be following them. Clanking and rattling was coming from the still lit storage room.

"He's not following us," the tallest shared to his fellow captive, who was observing the latches on the front metal gate. "Maybe now I can convince Fender to help us," he whispered as the crate gently swayed.

"He's deadest on his job," Dean said, sticking a paw between the many metal bars. "And I'm not so sure we should be sharing our little problem with anyone, especially a Stupid Guard Mutt!" he spoke the last part louder so the Doberman would hear.

"Dean!" the younger quietly scolded.

"Quiet!" Fender ordered, slightly shaking the carrier for emphasis. Keeping his professionalism, the dog didn't show any irritation about the offence.

Staying balanced, Sam said, "You're not helping!" Insults were not going to persuade the canine to join their side. The guard dog was very set on doing his job and loyally following his fellow watchman.

"I'm trying to…!" the older stopped himself and nodded towards the gate. He was working on pulling the upper bar down to release it from the top notch before he opened the bottom one.

"Dean, we can't just keep escaping cages and playing cat and mouse with the guards where we're playing the part of the mouse. It's clearly not working," the youngest lectured, pointedly glancing around their third prison that night. After trying to get the first latch down a few more times, the Siamese sighed.

"You're probably right. Go ahead have your little talk with the mutt," the oldest caved, putting his dislike for the Doberman aside for the moment. The dog seemed to be their best hope for an escape now. "It's not like it really matters if one flea-bag knows our secret. Who's he gonna tell anyway?" he continued, a bit more clam.

"Thanks, Dean," he thanked his older brother, knowing the latter held a grudge against the canine. The Siamese acknowledged it with a hum and motioned for Sam to go on.

"Sorry about my brother," the Maine Coon apologized to the guard dog.

Dean gave his little sibling a look, who gave one in return letting him know he was just trying to get on the canine's good side. The Siamese rolled his eyes not believing this plan would actually work, but going along with it for his younger brother. That sounded familiar, didn't it? The older glanced at the red, raised mark not hidden well by his foreleg fur.

"He could use some obedience training," Fender commented, continuing the long walk through the dim hallways. Dean kept his mouth closed and allowed his brother to handle this on his own.

"Yeah, he does have temper," the long-hair laughed, giving his brother an apologetic look. The older hunter was already really frustrated about their situation since the dog captured them and they had learned about the cops. Now was not the time to tease him.

Dean shook his head at the other's worry for him and waved his paw for him to just go on with it. It's not like he was going to explode just because of some teasing. His sane state wasn't that fragile, was it? He was about to attack the Maine Coon…attack Sam a while back during their argument just because he wouldn't let him have at the dog that was currently carrying them. There was also the matter of the new information about the police and them being lost in the maze called a shelter, but still. His behavior was uncalled for. He really needed to settle down.

So, what if some dog bested them? They still weren't used to their kitten bodies; of course, the dog would catch them in a surprise attack on his own turf. So, what if the cops were involved now? They handled them before; they could handle them now. They might have to transform back into humans first, but they'd figure out a way to get everything back, including his Baby. Thinking about the cops impounding her and snooping around inside her just fueled his anger more. So, he stopped thinking on their problems and just focused on their current solution. He sighed, sat down, and just listened to the conversation.

"Okay, enough of the small talk. What'cha mean about not being what I think you are?" the dog said, cutting to the chase. Sam looked at his big brother for assurance. The latter nodded.

"We're not kittens," the younger hunter stated.

"I beg to differ," Fender retorted, finally making it to his instructed room. He sat the carrier down by the half-moon desk so he could look down at the two captives while he waited for the human guard to come back with further orders.

"It's true," Sam argued, moving passed his brother the sit at the gate and properly speak with their guard. Dean went deeper into the carrier and turned around to watch the plan unfold.

"You sure look like kittens," the dog said, peering down at the tiny fluff ball. "But, I do have to admit you don't sound like them," he added, "You two sound like two grown men. It's kind of weird, almost funny. Hearing those deep voices comin' outta of those tiny, furry bodies." The canine's right upper lip pulled upwards showing some teeth, making what looked like an amused, half grin.

"That's because we are two men. We're humans," the Maine Coon admitted, looking up through the bars.

"Now you're just pullin' my leg," he almost laughed. "I don't like being messed with, especially when I'm on duty," he growled.

"I swear. I'm not messing with you. I'm being completely serious," the smaller one said, giving the tall animal a hard look. "My brother and I are humans. There was this accident with a magic spell and the next thing we know we're kittens locked in a cage," he explained.

"Magic spells? I know you got to be yanking my chain now," he barked down at the feline.

"Please, believe me. It's all true," the striped kitten pleaded, breaking out the puppy dog eyes.

Fender stared down at the big eyes for a moment before saying, "Well, you do smell different, not like a typical cat. I figured it was just because of where you came from or something. The fire station is full of funny smells. Thought maybe you picked it up there."

"See, I'm telling the truth. You're probably smelling the smoke given off by the spell," Sam explained, feeling like he was getting through to the dog. Even, the skeptical Siamese was starting to think this plan just might work.

"Well, there is definitely something off about you two. Maybe…"

"Good boy, Fender," Phil interrupted, walking into the room carrying a medium sized cage set up similarly to the cat kennel they woke up in. The dog gave the man his attention, wagging his docked tail a few times. "Go back outside," he instructed. Fender stood up and headed towards the door.

Before he stepped out, he quickly said, "Sorry, duty calls." Then he was gone. Sam slumped with a sigh.

"So much for that," Dean said, joining his brother at the gate.

* * *

After a short brawl, Phil finally managed to get the pair of troublesome kittens out of the cramped carrier and into the larger cage he had prepared for them. He had told them they would be staying right there with him where he could keep a close watch on them. They were very important kittens, and he wasn't losing his job because he let the police's evidence get away. After applying two locks on the gate of the cage, he added that it wasn't safe for any of the animals to wander the halls anyway, except for Fender, who was a highly trained canine guard.

"Now what?" Dean asked, looking up at the security guard, who had finally returned to his post at the computer chair. "Even if we manage to get past him again, all the exits are blocked by either an alarm or that mutt," he continued, looking back at his brother.

"Well, I hate to ask him to fix our mess, but I think we're going to have to call Cas," Sam said, running out of options.

Cas, short for Castiel, was their trench coat wearing angel friend. The two hunters had become so close to the powerful being over the years, he was really more a part of their family now. Sam knew he could count on him to come help them, but he hated to bother him for something as trivial as escaping a two "man" guarded animal shelter, especially since he had been helping them some much with the Mark and its influence on Dean.

The angel had his own problems to deal with as well. Unfortunately, Cas had lost his grace, the essence of his angel powers. He did have the grace of another angel coursing inside him, giving him some power at least. But, it was just a temporary fix, for without his own grace, he would eventually grow weaker, just as he had with his last stolen grace. Cas's wings were also broken, meaning he couldn't instantly teleport anywhere he wanted like angels usually could. This complicated any escape plan they might come up with that involved the angel.

"Yep. It's time to break out our angel," the older agreed. "I hope this works," he said to himself. Since Cas had been using his cell phone to communicate lately, he wondered if the spiritual being could still hear their prayers with his lost grace and all. The little kitten sat down and cast his eyes upwards. "Cas? Can ya hear me? Sam and I could really use your help right now," he prayed, closing his eyes. He paused briefly, then continued. "We really got ourselves in some hot water here. We had a screw up…well, I screwed up-" he glanced at his brother, before shutting his eyes again "-Sam wanted to try this spell on me to get rid of the Mark, and I accidentally jumped the gun with it. Long story short, we're stuck at the pound and we…uh, well…We're kitten, Cas. That's right; fur covered baby felines." After waiting for a reply, he opened his eyes. "Any response would be good, Cas." Silence. "Cas! You there! Open your ears!" he yelled.

"Shh. Quiet down," Phil shushed the mewing Siamese from his chair. "Settle down. You'll be here for a while. You're not escaping anymore tonight. Go to sleep or something," he instructed as he glanced down at the two caged animals, getting annoyed by the rambunctious pair.

Not too pleased with the man himself, the short-hair spoke loudly, "Sorry my **prayers** interrupted your **important work**!" The guard didn't even look away from the screens this time. "Hay!...Hay!...Hay! Hay!" he shouted, until the man finally looked at him.

"Shhhh!" Phil tried to quiet the kitten, wanting the rest of his shift to be as peaceful as it normal was.

"Hay! Hay! Hay!" Dean continued just to irritate the man.

"Be quite!" he said louder, turning his swivel chair around to stare directly at the little menace.

"Mew! Mew! Mew! Mew! Mew!" the guard heard.

Sam watched the exchange with a mixture of mild humor and moderate annoyance. His older brother could be so immature sometimes. What was the point of yelling at the guard? It's not like he could understand him. Realization struck the Maine Coon as he listened to the squabble.

"Dean!" the youngest said eagerly.

"Hay! Hay! Hay! Hay! Hay!" the oldest continued, standing up with his front paws and face against the front of the cage. The guard now had his ears covered attempting to ignore the relentless kitten and watch the monitors.

"Dean!" the long-hair shouted louder.

"What?!" the shortest asked, glaring over his shoulder at Sam.

"One, please STOP!" the youngest ordered forcefully. Dean turned fully around and sat down in front of the other, looking a bit like a scolded child. "Two, I don't think Cas can understand you even if he hears you," he added.

"Hum, I hadn't thought about that. Guess he doesn't speak cat," he commented, looking down at his cream colored furry chest and black paws.

They had discovered Phil didn't understand them. The angel probably couldn't interpret their cat language either.

"We're going to have to try to reach him without speaking," Sam informed, scoping the small room for a solution.

"What do you suggest? I'd text him, if I had my cell," the oldest asked, searching the room as well. He followed his sibling's pointing paw to the top of the crescent shaped desk. The Siamese smiled, "Geek boy found a computer."

* * *

A peaceful silence finally filled the small security room. The uniformed guard looked down at the cage and saw that the two captives had fallen asleep. Curled into each other, the kittens breathed gentle in a calm slumber. Phil glanced up at the wall clock and then back at the cute pair. Taking the opportunity, the night guard careful pushed his rolling chair out, slowly stood up, and sunk out the open doorway. The sound of attentive footsteps gradually evened out into a steady pace as the man left the room and headed down the hallway.

"Finally," the Siamese huffed, pushing his brother away and standing up. The Maine Coon's eyes fluttered tiredly, before he brought his white paws to his face and rubbed the drowsiness away. "I was starting to think you just wanted an excuse to cuddle and sleep," he teased, working on the top lock by standing on a lower vertical bar.

"That's how kittens sleep," Sam informed with a yawn. They had laid there so long, the young kitten had almost fallen asleep for real. He stretched his tiny striped legs and then quickly hopped up to help get the locks off. "It needed to look real. Otherwise, he never would have left us alone," the youngest argued, unlocking the bottom padlock. As the top lock slid down the metal bar, Sam wiggled his own loose and let another long yawn escape.

"Once we contact Cas with the plan, your getting some shut eye," his big brother commanded, pushing the latch from its loop.

"'m fine, Dean," Sam slurred, long night catching up to his young kitten body. The white paws continued to struggle with the bottom fastener.

"I got it, Sammy," the eldest said, gentle nudging his sleepy sibling out of the way.

He would just let the exhausted kitten sleep now, but he needed his computer expertise to proceed with the plan. The Siamese was getting unusually tired as well, even after taking that magic spell induced slumber. Other than that nap, neither had slept much, especially Sam, but Dean still blamed their new bodies for them getting fatigued so soon.

"Okay. Thanks," the Maine Coon said easily, letting himself be move over.

He rubbed his droopy eyes again and then shook his head. He needed to wake up; his brother needed him. This may be their only chance to use the computer. They couldn't afford not to progress just because Sam was tired.

"Come on, sleepyhead," the short-hair instructed, pushing the gate open. He quickly headed for the chair as his sibling trailed behind him.

"I'm only tired from lying down so long. I'm fine now," the tallest assured, truly sounding more awake.

"Either way, we're both hittin' the hay when we're done," he spoke seriously, while preparing to jump into the low-seated chair.

Hopping up with too much force, the black pointed kitten smashed into the backrest of the soft leather chair, making it rolled back gently a bit. Pulling his face out of the seat, he sat up and shook his head. Luckily, his little brother couldn't see the embarrassing fail from the floor. Keeping his cool, he peeked over the side and waited for Sam to try.

Copying Dean, the Maine Coon scrunched down, wiggled his rear, and jumped. Back feet sliding on the slick laminate, his front end barely made it onto the seat. His hindlegs kicked as he struggled to pull himself up.

"Dean, help me," Sam pleaded, claws digging into the leather. His brother's black paws covered his white ones as he looked up at the short-hair with wide eyes. A smirk curled the Siamese's mouth. "Dean?" asked worriedly, seeing the mischief in the green eyes.

Tightening his grip on the youngest's paws, he said with a dark glee, "Long live the king!" He pushed the paws loose and sent his brother on a short descent to the floor. The Maine Coon landed on the ground with a gentle thud, unharmed and on all fours.

"Deeean!" sleepy Sam whined, glaring up at the grinning feline.

"Sorry, Sammy. I couldn't resist," Dean laughed. "Quit poutin' and get back up here. We have work to do," he instructed good naturedly.

Giving his brother one last angry look, the long-hair tried again. This time he made it over the edge, but landed on his belly with his legs sprawled. Turns out it was hard to land a jump when one couldn't see the landing pad. The disgruntled kitten pushed himself up and quickly leaped onto the desk. He slipped on the smooth table top as his legs spread out until he fell onto his furry underside. The Siamese joined him shortly, paws sliding him onto his bottom. The two kittens composed themselves before making their way to the desktop.

While the younger Winchester was in his element at the computer, the older took his position in front of the monitors. Dean found the security guard leaving the stray cat room in which the two kittens were supposed to be staying. The screens showed that the cage was once again closed, so the hunter assumed Phil had gone in there to return the room to its proper order. Following the man through the monitors, the long-haired saw him walk through the halls and peek into almost every room. Presumably, the guard was doing one of his duties: checking on all the animals. A few distant barks bounced through the halls and into the blue-lighted room.

Receiving a concerned look from his brother, the oldest assured, "Guard's checking on the dogs." He pointed to the screen for one of the dog rooms where a bit of light was seeping in and then to the hallway monitor outside the door that showed Phil peeking through the door.

Satisfied the guard was occupied, the Maine Coon continued his work on the computer. He had successfully gotten through to Cas's cell phone and was preparing a message to send him. He continued typing the note. The message included: a short summary of the spell incident and the events thereafter; an update on how and where they are now; the shelter's name, address, and hours Sam had read on the flyer taped to the front desk; and, most importantly, the detailed plan the hunter had discussed that began tomorrow at the shelter's opening. Once he was finished, he quickly reread the short essay and sent it, hoping his friend would see it and respond soon. The younger waited anxiously, eyes moving between the computer and the security monitors.

After several tense minutes, a simple message popped up, "I'll be there." The kitten sighed and relaxed a bit. Now, maybe they could finally get out of the shelter and fix the real problem: undoing the spell. Then the younger hunter could go back to trying to help his brother.

"He'll be here," Sam informed and then began covering his tracks.

"Plan C is a go," Dean acknowledged, looking away from the screens and failing to give his brother a thumbs up with his paw. The Siamese had determined that Plan A was when they had gone outside, and Plan B was trying the front door. So, he had argued that this-their third try-was Plan C, aka Plan Cas.

The long-hair just shook his head and continued erasing anything that could be tracked. Meanwhile, the Siamese looked boredly back at the monitors with a yawn. He was ready to get that shut eye; someone had woken him up before sun rise and made him read nonsense books all day. It was Dean's own fault they were in this mess though. Why did he have to read that spell out loud?

As he growled under his breath at his own stupidity, he noticed something seemed to be mocking him. He heard the growl again and looked down at his furry stomach. Great! Now he's hungry. And there was nothing to eat but cat food.

As if on cue, or maybe because he just realized he was hungry, a pleasant smell flowed into his tiny beige nose. Following the fragrant with his eyes, he spotted a brown paper bag towards the end of the long desk. Jackpot! With his last ounce of self-control, the famished kitten glanced at the screens and saw the guard slipping into the men's room. Perfect! The food smelt so savory, Dean felt as though his feet would leave the ground and he'd float over to the bag like a cartoon character. His kitten body must have amplified his hunger just as it had amplified Sam's drowsiness.

Finishing up on the computer, the sleepy feline heard crinkling and a thud. Claws retracting, he whipped his head around to the sound and saw a brown bag lying on its side with the back half of a Siamese kitten protruding out. He sighed, relaxing and pulling back his claws.

"Dean! What are you doing?" the younger quietly scolded, leaving the desktop to deal with his brother.

"I'm starvin', Sam," the raiding kitten defended, ignoring the fries and unwrapping the giant burger. For a moment, he considered this would be his heaven: devouring a burger almost his size.

"You can't eat that. The guard will know we got out. No telling what he'll do to keep us locked up after this," the youngest argued, sticking his head into the bag. The wonderful scent hit him right in the stomach. The food smelt so good, his mouth was watering in seconds. Hardly eating much that day, the meaty odor blanked his kitty mind to one thought: food. Gaining control before he pounced on the now uncovered burger, he shook his head. "We can't eat his lunch," he reasoned with his sibling and himself.

"Don't worry, you spoil sport," his muffled voice said, backing up and forcing Sam out of the heavenly bag. "We'll just eat these," he added, carrying a large slice of bacon out of the bag.

"Don't you think he'll notice when his BLT is missing the B?" the long-hair questioned, trying to ignore the huge piece of salty pork. He did enjoy bacon as a human, but that giant slice of crispy meat looked and smelt almost too divine to resist.

"He won't know it was us. He'll just think the food joint forgot the bacon," the oldest said nonchalantly. "Here, take it," he offered, lifting the bacon towards his brother.

The Maine Coon tried to argue as the meat was brought up to his face, "Dean, I just…think this…could be…a bad…"

The starving feline suddenly chopped onto the crispy slice, but refrained from jerking it out of the other's mouth. He looked regretfully at his brother. The Siamese's eyes widened in surprise, but then he grinned understandably. The oldest's jaws reluctantly released the bacon, and he took a step back.

"Yeah, I know," Dean said with understanding, "I don't think I've ever felt this intensely hungry, at least as a human."

The short-hair crawled back inside the bag, pulled out the other slice of bacon, and set it down onto the paper floor. Then he struggled to rewrap the burger with his paws without shedding any fur in it. Evidence hidden, he snatched his prize and reemerged from the paper sack. An embarrassed Sam was still holding his bacon, saliva uncontrollably dripping from his mouth. His older brother didn't bother laughing; he could fell his own mouth watering.

They quickly and carefully closed and righted the bag, bacon never leaving their wet mouths. Then they headed for the computer chair. As he waited for Dean to jump down onto the leather, the Maine Coon watched the monitors and saw that Phil had exited the restroom and was on his way back to their room.

"'ean! Hiss 'oming!" Sam struggled to warn through the bacon and saliva.

The shortest quickly jumped into the chair and then into the floor. He'd didn't want them to be caught, but he really didn't want his crispy treat to be confiscated. The Main Coon hurriedly followed as the other ran inside their cell. Luckily, leaping down was a lot easier than going up. When Sam had reached the cage, he saw his brother hiding his food under the blanket. The youngest made a face at the uncleanliness of it, but copied the action in favor of helping close up the gate and keeping his bacon hidden from the guard.

Dean had already pulled the cage's door shut and was working on closing the latch. As he heard Phil's footsteps, the shortest got the bottom fastener and quickly climbed up to get the upper one. His younger brother jumped in and attempted to lift the padlock back up onto the latch. This was the scene the guard walked in to see.

"What do you two think you're doing?" Phil questioned, mistaking their actions for another escape attempt. "I can't leave you all alone for one minute, can I?" he added, bending down and redoing the latches and locks. Standing up and pointing a finger at them, he warned, "I'm keeping an eye on you two."

The Winchesters didn't really care now. They had no reason to escape the cell anymore that night. With Cas's help tomorrow, it didn't matter how closely the man watched them the rest of the night.

Going back to his main job, Phil sat down and looked over the monitors. Then he gave his attention back to the escape artists. The pair just sat there staring back at him. After a few minutes, the guard watched the screens again, before turning back to his captives. The tiny duo quickly looked away from the blanket and looked back at the uniformed man. Said man squinted suspiciously, but went back to the monitors after a short while. This continued for several minutes.

Dean waited until the guard finally took most of his focus off of them, before saying, "I should have been more careful with the spell. I was stupid and careless. It's my fault we're here like this." His brother quickly took his eyes off the blanket where he knew the bacon was waiting for him as soon as he had a chance to sneak a bite.

"No, I shouldn't have showed it to you until I read it more carefully. I was just desperate for it to work," Sam took the blame, forgetting the food for the moment. "I shouldn't have fought with you in the hallway earlier. I should have learned by now not to provoke you," he apologized, glancing at the Siamese's arm.

"I shouldn't have let my temper go like that. I need to control myself…control this," the short-hair said, twisting his foreleg around to expose the Mark. His little brother gave him a sympathetic look. "Okay. Enough of the click-flick moment. Let's eat," he quickly ended the sentimental moment.

Turning to the blanket, the Siamese stuck his head under and finally took a few bites of the delicious meat. The Main Coon waited impatiently as he watched the guard. After savoring the taste and holding back an unwanted purr, Dean reluctantly emerged and allowed his brother to enjoy his own slice.

Keeping his composure, Sam went under the cover and bit into the meat. The wonderful salty flavor exploded on his taste buds almost making him purr. The starving kitten greedy ate more of the mouthwatering pork. After taking several bites, the younger forced himself out, so his sibling could have another turn.

Continuing taking turns as lookout, the hungry kittens gradually ate their meat meal a little bit at a time. After his last bite, Dean found himself licking the cage floor with his head under the blanket as Sam kept watch. Hearing a loud yawn, the Siamese yawned in return and freed himself from the cover.

"You done?" the Main Coon asked in a tired voice, eyelids dropping and body slumped.

"Yep. That was good and surprisingly filling," Dean answered, licking him mouth. He was tempted to lick his paws and wipe his face, but resisted. The hunter felt he had given into his kitten body enough already.

Sam nodded and headed for the water bowl. The long-hair bend down and drank, not giving much thought to how he was lapping up the liquid like the feline he was. The older worried his brother would drown himself if he didn't hurry his drinking and go to sleep. The little kitten could barely keep his head up to lick up the water.

"Okay, you're done," the big brother said, pushing the exhausted feline away from the bowl.

He led his baby brother to the blanket, white chin dripping with the clear liquid. With one last big yawn, Sam curled up on the soft blanket. Dean quenched his own thirst, then laid down close to his sibling, sharing the one blanket. Gladly, he skipped the cuddles this time. As he placed his head onto his paws, the Siamese heard crinkling. Ears going up automatically, he glanced up at the desk.

"Hay, they forgot the bacon. That's the best part," Phil complained aloud, searching his burger for the missing meat accessory.

With a satisfied grin, the tired kitten told his little brother, who was almost in dreamland, "See, I told you he'd blame it on the restaurant."

* * *

 **Author's Note** **: Sorry, it took me forever to post another chapter. I kept going back to this chapter and editing it a million times. I had such a hard time deciding on how to write it. I know where the story's going in the long run, but deciding how I wanted it to get there was difficult. I wasn't sure how weak and kitten-like I wanted them to be; they are skilled hunters after all. I'll get the next chapter up when I can. Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed and feel free to review!**


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